


Together for the Holidays

by LibertyKingdom



Category: Miami Vice (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-25 06:22:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21831430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibertyKingdom/pseuds/LibertyKingdom
Summary: Tubbs and Crockett share a bottle of holiday wine and share a kiss.
Relationships: Tubbs x Crockett, female tubbs x Crockett
Kudos: 3





	Together for the Holidays

“I hope you like Dom Perignon,” Tubbs breathes fetching two glasses for them. She wasn’t exactly a connoisseur nor sommelier. Often her $400-dollar-a-week paycheck didn’t leave much room for frivolous spending. This, however, was a special occasion!!! It was Christmas and she wanted to celebrate the time with Crockett. Tonight was all the more important to her because she can scantly remember a time when the holidays hadn’t been hard. The sensational cheer and joviality of Christmas had often been curled in the frosts of loss. She was almost certain he too was burdened with a heavy heart this time of year.

Crockett knowing the sheer strain of trying to keep a bank account out of the red, smiled appreciatively. “Ah, what the hell, partner. Give me whattchya got.” Of course, he would have even settled for a few beers on the Vitas Dance had Tubbs not insisted on having wine at her place.

This night belonged to them. Just Tubbs and Sonny. In the air lingered the spirits of a trillion twinkling lights, the soft melodies of carols being sung somewhere in another apartment, and the excitement of the unknown. She’d surrender this night to the promised bliss of his company and the warm caress of alcohol. Who knows? Maybe this would become a tradition of theirs! That is if both of them could manage to survive the year. 

Tubbs briefly rolls the wine bottle around in her hands. The glint of the candlelight off of the bottle ushers in a vague remembrance of what she had done to be awarded this prize. It had, in the end, been worth it. Even more so tonight when she could share it with him. Slinking down on the couch beside him, she passes him the bottle. “Think you can open this, baby?” She murmurs. For good measure, she bats her eyes playfully. Ricki places the two semi-extravagant cups down on the coffee table beside them.

Crockett’s first response came in the form of a huff. “What are you playing at, Tubbs? You know that I can.” His voice is gruff but denotes a certain playfulness. His attempt to remain stern falters as he meets her gaze. His lips twitch upwards unbidden. New York had grown on him. Somewhere along the way, she’d swindled his softly thrumming heart and turned it into a freight train. A thundering mess contented to clickity-clack right down a track of no return. And to think, she doesn’t always talk back. 

“Oh, you know, I was worried that the hit you took to your shoulder in junior varsity might have hampered your ability. It might be acting up again,” she cordially teases in return. Her free hand presses to a phony injury zone with mock concern. 

Sea-glass hues flicker with amusement. “So now you’re a comedian? Huh? Have the moonlighting opportunities for cops gotten that bad, pal?” He questions, expertly pouring the vintage brew. He makes no effort to conceal that he was leaning in closer to her.

She unintentionally reciprocates the motion. Ricki’s eyes trained solely upon the subtle bows and curves of his lips. Swallowing sharply, she forces herself to focus on his words instead of her own desires. “You better believe it,” the retort comes in the form of a hushed murmur. Their noses are now scantly more than inches away from each other. “I...” She starts, having more to say but the words trail off into a void. 

A breath is uttered between the two, nearly in unison. Her fingers, hesitant at first, now extend to him. They curl one by one into the wrinkled fabric of his undershirt, clasping the material just above his heart. The vibrant pulse could be felt beneath the skin of her knuckles. 

Sonny places the bottle safely down between the two full glasses. His now free, calloused hand raises to scoop her cheek. “Tubbs, I’ve been meaning to tell you somethin’. I...” His southern twang ripples out. His thumb trails over her soft blush daring her beautiful countenance to engrain upon his cerebral cortex. There was something so wonderfully possessive and grounding about the grasp she held on his shirt. Most people didn’t venture to give him a second look, especially with his three-day-old stubble. But the way she peered at him with those large orbs of coffee and evergreen, it made him feel less like he was drifting aloof and more like he belonged. He belonged with or to someone not just the job. 

“Yes?” She returns in something a hair bolder than a whisper. Her lips part, eager with anticipation. This could be a disastrous move. Their partnership depends upon their loyalty and devotion to each other. Jeopardizing that could get them both killed. Yet, this feels different. It feels like fate.

Instead of answering, Sonny abruptly presses a kiss to her plump scarlet stained lips. To his pure astonishment, her lips were not snatched away nor was a wicked rebuke lavished upon him. No. She lingered. As did he. 

Goosebumps crawled up the back of his neck when her hand finds his sandy blonde hair. He vaguely remembers the sensation from the days when Caroline still felt for him. But she was a long, distant memory now. She’d moved on and now so would he. Provided his ticker would keep marching to the Maker’s beat. 

Sonny tastes of cigarettes, long-nights, fast-cars, freedom, and safety. All the things she found herself longing for. Her long, dark lashes pressed closed. Savoring the sensation of the gesture briefly before pulling away. “Wow.” Tubbs murmurs, contentedly. Her fingers begrudgingly release him.

Crockett’s lips reveal a full-on smile, smudged with the shade of her worn lipstick. “You ain't half bad for a New Yorker.” This, in its own odd way, was high praise spilling from the Floridian born man. 

Most other women might be offended. They’d interpret the remark as disingenuous, thoughtless, or insulting. But not Ricki. She had learned to read the sentiment that is expressed by his words and the veiled meaning that lay beneath.

Blushing deeper than she had before, Tubbs turns her gaze to the untouched drinks. With a whimsical tone she conveys, “first we’re going to drink to you - your devilish good looks, your courage, your kindness, and your strength. And most importantly, your acceptance of the invitation to spend the holiday here with me.”A wistful glance is cast around her Vice issued apartment. She knows that her apartment is a lot to take in even for her partner. There are bullet notches and holes in the drywall, the furniture had all see far better days, and the decor certainly wasn’t up to his taste- style and persona wise. Yet, in spite of this, she prays he will spend the night. When her eyes return to him they are melted soft, gleeful once again. 

He chuckled. “Well, gee, Tubbs. I get the feeling you’ve been plannin’ this for a long time.” His hand gestured about the room. “You coulda given me a heads up.” Still, he takes a glass and passes it to her before taking his. “Let's not toast to me. Wouldn’t want anyone spreadin’ the rumor I’m narcissistic or anything. So, why don’t we toast to us. To our partnership and the years of friendship to come.”


End file.
